Understanding
by fairmaidofkent
Summary: Helena Ravenclaw often wonders why she and her renowned mother live cloistered in the hills of Glencoe rather than the glory that seems so near. Tired of being deceived and lied to, she takes life into her own hands, ultimately resulting in her murder
1. Chapter 1

"_No Helena, not now. You wouldn't understand."_

_"But mummy, _why_ must I always go upstairs to my room when he visits?"_

_"You wouldn't understand, Helena. Now go."_

* * *

_"No Helena, not now. You wouldn't understand."_

_"I want to meet him though. Mum, please."_

_"You can't. Not now. Go." _

* * *

_"No Helena, not now. You wouldn't understand."_

_"Mother, I should think that by fifteen I'd be old enough for this!"_

_"You're still too young. You wouldn't understand."_

* * *

Always unable to understand. Because what could I, the only child of Rowena Ravenclaw, _possibly _understand? I march up the stone steps to my room, defeated, as I have been on this night for as long as I can remember. Always this night. And why? 

_You wouldn't understand._

I reach my room and head directly for the window. The warped green glass distorts the view of the world beyond in even the brightest of light, and the darkness veils all but the lights of the village at the foot of the great hill. If I wait here long enough, I always see it- one tiny, indistinct light breaking away from the rest, growing larger and brighter as it ascends the slope, eventually accompanied by the shorts and clattering hooves of invisible beasts. The carriage unfailing stops at the front of our manor, and a solitary figure emerges. He is indistinct through my window, but anyone could discern a towering figure, well over two metres high, a broad shouldered man. Come to see my mother.

"_Rowena!_" He always bellows with pleasure at seeing her face in the doorway, catching her up into a bear hug. Her petite frame all but vanishes in his embrace.

"Not out here. Some one will see."

I've never spoken to this man, but his jocularity, his teasing of my mother, it all astounds me. He and myself and dear Helga are the only ones I've ever heard address her as anything other than 'Lady Ravenclaw', or simply 'Lady'. But once they enter my home I can hear no more, as my mother has certainly set charms against it. I stand up, and wander over to the mirror that stands on the far side of my room. Every time I gaze into it, I can't help but to contrast my features with those of my dear mother's. I'll soon be taller than her, and already am I more substantial. She is like a wisp of smoke and intellectual brilliance at times, wandering the corridors or buried in her books. I don't for a moment deny that I am attractive. But in an entirely different way, I know she is more beautiful. While I have thick auburn hair, hers is black. My complexion in rosy and flushed; I appear red-faced against her whiteness. 'Fair Lady Ravenclaw', they call her. She is slender and petite, delicate and soft-spoken. I have hips and a bosom that would make the most fertile milk-maid envious, a mercifully slim waist, and my tone is about as lilting and sweet as an angry oxen. Fortunately this last is manageable, if I remember to speak in a tempered whisper. I do prefer my eyes to hers, however. Green, like sea glass, where hers are simply brown. Her face it long and eloquent- mine is rounded and strong. Her nose is long, thin, and ever-so-slightly hooked, where mine is more pert and child-like.

I suppose I must look like my father, but since I've only ever seen the face of one parent, how can I be sure?

I feel the gentlest of vibrations and know it's the man- his laughter or booming voice, I cannot be certain.

Not for the first time, I wonder who he is. Every year, he visits on this exact date; every year, I am banished to my room, and warned not to emerge until he has left. When I was an infant and toddler, a maid attended me for those hours. In my childhood, she sealed my door by magic. However, for the past three years, her trust seems to have increased. If I so choose, I could waltz into the room with them, take a seat, and pour myself a cup of tea.

_If I so choose._ Perhaps that would be a bit drastic. They wouldn't be difficult to spot, I'm certain. I can be quite an unobtrusive listener.

I feel immediately guilty. The mere idea of spying on my mother inspires fear, for certainly she, in all her brilliance, must know the thought crossed my mind.

_But…_

She's not gifted in Legilimency. She once mentioned the Salazar had been… Salazar Slytherin. I immediately asked for more information, but she closed up, like a book that was done with. A chapter in her life that was finished, never to be re-read. I could almost hear the snap of pages coming together. She was loath to speak of those days. '_It happened so long ago, when we were younger… No, Helena, we can't go visit Hogwarts, it's so very far. Aren't you happy here in Glencoe? I am… No, I don't miss it, I don't want to go back… You wouldn't understand, Helena…'_

I tiptoe to my door, hand placed softly on the knob. I wait until I feel the vibrations once more, and push turn and push in one fluid movement. The noise of that man will cover the creaking hinges. As soon as the door opens, the charm is broken, and I can hear laughter.

"…I'd forgotten that, Ro! Lena was so angry with him afterwards!"

I can't hear my mother's response- even in the best or worst of moods she never raises her voice. I slip towards the staircase.

"I suppose you're right, but I thought we'd have to forget about it then and there! I do miss those days, Ro."

By now. I'm close enough to hear what my mother has to say to this.

"I do as well, Godric. As you may well imagine."

Even I could feel the atmosphere shift. If I crane my neck I can see them now, in the large hall, sitting but the crackling fire. I get my very first good look at the stranger, and remember only just in time to cover my mouth as I gasp.

The Godric my mother sat with was, in fact, Godric Gryffindor. I'd seen pictures of him, of course, everyone had, but he was truly an awe-inspiring presence. He was seated on the floor at the hearth, for none of our seats could comfortable hold his hulking size. He lounged on the stone as though it were the most comfortably of arrangements; his shaggy, fiery-maned head cradled in one hand, a goblet of ale in the other. It was this he distracted himself with as the very air grew uncomfortable.

My mother spoke first. "How is your wife then, and your sons?"

"Fine. They're all well."

"I'm glad to hear it." She certainly didn't sound so.

"I… Ro… I didn't come here to discuss… I missed you, Rowena…"

"Did you? Is that why you only bother to pass by, once a year, on _this_ night of all others?"

"I…" He frowned. And suddenly, in a great flurry of movement, he was on his knees before her, her dainty white hands disappearing into his massive ones. "I _need _to come back! _Especially _tonight! If I don't, how will I know it happened? _Did_ it really happen?"

"Did it?!" Rowena, springing up from her chair. "Did it happen, Godric? Have you forgotten? Has your memory left you as well as reason that I'm not entirely certain you ever possessed?"

"That isn't what I meant! It still seems so unreal… I loved you more that night than I've ever loved any woman since. For those hours, I thought I would die of happiness… Come back, Rowena. Teach again. It's not the same with just me and Helga… You'd be so proud of your students… A Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin this year; can you imagine the kind of legitimacy Salazar would have felt for that? There's nothing keeping you here, Ro. You don't have to live alone out here, without family or friend…"

"Why? So I could see you each day, farther from me then you ever were? With a wife and children?"

"I want to see you all the time. To look into your eyes…"

"_I _feel, Godric, that I look into your eyes every single day." He voice was quiet, but carrying. Helena felt strangely that there was more meaning to it… She glanced at Godric's eyes. They were green, smallish, and pleading. Nothing terribly significant, except that…

Those were her eyes. Helena was looking her own eyes. And suddenly, those eyes were looking back at her.

* * *

[Author's Note: It's my first ever non-Lucius/Narcissa, and I'm really uncertain of it! This is for the Halloween Capers contest at The Hideaway (link in profile). And if anyone out there has ANY ideas for what the Bloody Baron's name should be and is willing to share, I'd be forever indebted to you. More chapters soon. It'll be done by Novemder 4th, anyway. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Ro-Rowena?"

"It shouldn't have been a _choice_, Godric-"

"Rowena…"

"You said you loved me!"

"Rowena! I think one of your…erm… servant girls? I think she's watching us."

Immediately, my mother spun. Our gazes lock only for a split second before I turned and fled to my room, heart pounding, vision blurring. But I knew it was useless. I'd only just closed the door before it was flung open again, my mother's face unusually colored.

"Helena?"

"It's him, isn't it? I'm not the daughter of one of the Founders, am I? I'm the daughter of _two!_ Is this why I could never go to Hogwarts? You _lied _to me! How could you not have told me?" I was screaming at her now, uncaring that _he_ would hear. My father. I had a father…

"Rowena?" He appeared behind my mother in the doorway, very nearly blocking my view of the hallway. "What's going on?" Never the brightest of the Four, I've heard.

"You ask if it happened, Godric? You can't remember? Well, look at it, right there. My proof, every day. Every second, I can be reminded of you, that you left… Inevitable, of course, why else would I be here alone?"

"She's… your daughter? You have a daughter, Rowena?"

"So do you!"

He looks up at me again, disbelieving.

"Our daughter?" He steps forward and squints slightly. I see recognition there- the similarities are uncanny. "Why didn't you tell me, Ro?" He demanded, turning to her suddenly. "Fifteen years, Rowena!"

"As though I've not been counting the days! What would you have me do, Godric? One night, and you were married a month later, just days before I realized it! I had to leave. I couldn't very well stand up at the ceremony and demand you wed me instead! You choose the pretty blonde simpleton- the one who'd have a smile on her face at all times, gladly do your bidding, and bear you hordes of children. No matter she's twenty years younger, she can hardly sting together a complete thought… Oh no, she and your dozen blundering boys live happily near _my_ school, spending weekends and holidays with you, seeing you whenever they're so inclined. While I, a fifty-five year old woman-" She could scarcely manage the words, so entangled in rage were they.

"_Go,_ Godric." She gasped at last. "Go, and don't you dare come back!"

We never saw Godric Gryffindor, the brave and chivalrous, ever again.

* * *

It was a week before I left my room or saw my mother, and a month before I gave any response to her pleas to talk. It was around midnight that I climbed out of bed, crossed to cold stone floors of my room and corridors, and pushed the door to her bed chamber. She was already up, sitting by the window as if to better enjoy the pounding rain and howling winds, reading a book with that diadem of hers placed haphazardly in unkempt locks. 

"You lied to me." I'd spent hours mulling over exactly what I wished to say, but this was all I could manage.

"Oh, Helena, darling…" She hopped up immediately, but then just stood there, uncomfortable.

"I asked. I asked and asked, and you told me it was too complicated. That I wouldn't understand. What isn't to understand?"

"Helena, you must see… We'd spend so many years, wanting, waiting… But there was always something that stopped it. It was ridiculous. We should have been married the moment we met, as headstrong adolescents. We were in love, even then, unfortunately more with ourselves than each other… We got this idea for a school… Helga was my dearest friend, even back then, and she just went along with it… Then we met Salazar, and I think we were all in love with him for some time. He was older, and he made it real. He got us the land, the funds… Then he let Godric and I do what we did best. We'd sit together in a makeshift shack that all four of us crammed together in, saving pennies. Ideas would fly all night long and in the morning we'd make them happen. We were young then, we didn't need sleep. The best years of my life were spent building that school, and Godric was beside me, the whole time. When we stood before it, complete, for the very first time, he kissed me… The project we'd spend the past decade an a half on was finally done, and I knew in that moment that I loved him. I'd loved him every second of the whole journey. That happiness lasted only five more years. I was thirty five when Salazar left, but he left with such hateful words and nearly killed Godric- I bawled for days. There'd been arguments, but I'd never imagined… Five more years passed; we'd just turned forty, and returned from a summer holiday, when Godric announced that he was going to be married. We met the girl, half our age, and I could tell even dear Helga was stunned. But she gave them her congratulation and I gave mine. But later that night, I snuck down to his chambers… I begged him not to… And… and…"

"And nine months later, you had me." I supplied dryly. My mother nodded.

"He married the girl anyway, and by the time they returned from their furlough, I'd come here. I refused his ardent demands to see me until after you were born, but I still wanted to talk to him, despite what he'd done… One does not forget that kind of love so quickly. I didn't want either of you to know… Helena, don't look at me like that, it was for your own protection…"

"How?" I whispered. "How did that protect me?"

She sighed and sat again, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, Helena… You wouldn't understand."

Maybe not. But this I did understand: Something changed that night. And no matter how hard she fought the change, the relationship I shared with my mother would never be the same.

* * *

"Twenty minutes, Helena, dear, are you excited?" 

"Of course, mother." I reply dutifully. She smiles and runs the brush through my hair once more. I wince, scarcely tolerating the touch.

"You look lovely. My dear little girl, a woman now. Seventeen today- an adult!"

I nod tersely at her overly-bright tone. She tries so hard, especially on occasions like this, but nothing can change what happen that night, almost two years ago. My mother was the one who wanted to throw this celebration, and I merely tolerate it. She's planned the whole affair, and I doubt I'll even know anyone present.

"Wait here, Helena. I have a surprise for you." She hurried from my room, and I roll my eyes. Well, at least I do get a lovely dress out of it. Navy, at her insistence, but quite a lovely velvet ensemble, nonetheless. "Here. Now, close you eyes, dearest," She commanded. I obey, but with little enthusiasm. Something it placed upon my head, and my mother sighs, "Perfect. Open you eyes, love." I do, and see that she's placed the Diadem, her famous Diadem, in my hair. "I think you should borrow it for tonight. You can bring wisdom into your adulthood."

I stared, transfixed, into my reflection. I've never been permitted to even touch this crown, the most treasured of my mother's possessions. I wait, but feel no sudden burst of insight- perhaps the wisdom only comes with decision-making? I stand.

"Thank you, mother. I think I hear carriages approaching; our guests should be arriving shortly."

* * *

"…Why, if you don't look _ravishing _this evening, Miss Ravenclaw. May I call you Helena?" 

I grit my teeth against the lascivious tone against my ear.

"No, you may not, Baron." I hiss in return. I could never be the gracious hostess my mother is.

"No? Well, that's a pity. I insist you call me Bain. Seventeen this year…An _adult._" He chuckles softly, and inappropriately runs a finger along my neck. I jerk away. When my mother said those words, they were proud, perhaps a bit wistful… _His_ tone causes me to positively shudder.

"Baron, I need to go." I try to pull away, but he catches my arm.

"Not without a dance first, I hope?"

Before I can object, he's already pulled me far too near. The music begins.

"So tell me, Helena,"

"_Miss Ravenclaw,_ to you." But he ignores me.

"What is it you plan to do with adulthood? Surely not stay cloistered within these walls forever? I have a Manor, not terribly far from here, but much grander, that I think you would like it."

"Not if _you_ inhabit it! I'd rather live in a cave than with you!"

"Ah," He tutted softly, running his hand over my hip. I shoved it away. "I do hope you'll come to see differently… I should so like to see you the mistress of my lands… my home… my bed…"

I break away midstep, flushed with fury. "How _dare _you? I should like nothing more than to never see you again!"

He laughed, mindless of my outrage.

"Come, Helena. People are staring." He pulls me close once more. "But tell me," He murmurs. "Surely you wouldn't object to our children attending Hogwarts? Your mother is a Founder, after all, but I should prefer my offspring to be in Slytherin- the very finest House, if I do say so. I graduated four years ago…"

"Baron, I couldn't care less what House your spawn is in, for they will certainly have no relation to me."

"_Au contraire_," He smirked. "You'd be surprised."

The knowing look made me even more uncomfortable and wary than usual. "What are you plotting?" I demand. He laughs softly.

"Me? Why, nothing at all."

At long last the song ends, but the Baron does not release me. And no music starts up once more. I hear the faintest of clinking and look up to see my mother, levitating slightly above the crowd to be seen and heard by all.

"Welcome, all." She begins, smiling around warmly. "Thank you all for gathering here today to celebrate the seventeenth birthday of my daughter, Helena…" There was a smattering of applause before she continued. "And I'd like you take this opportunity to make another splendid announcement concerning my dear girl." She pauses dramatically, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "I might have told her, but I wanted to make the exciting announcement today. Earlier this week, a _charming _young man, who has spent much time in the company of Helena, and I know regards her quite fondly, asked for her hand in marriage. And as her mother, knowing what is best for her, I accepted on her behalf. Later this year, Helena will be marrying the Baron Bain of Glen!" Another, more enthusiastic round of applause follows, but I feel as though something large and unsettled was residing within me. The Baron's arm curls around my waist.

"Surprise, my dear. And happy birthday."

I shove him away, unable to hear the congratulatory remarks through the blood pounding in my ears. I push through the crowd, blind to their concerned expressions. I'm aware of nothing until I reach the massive doors of our home. I stop, and realize that only one figure blocks my exit. My mother. She opens her mouth to say something, but I speak faster.

"_I hate you._" I dart around her stunned form and sprint into the night, kicking off my shoes and pounding barefooted down the slope towards the village. If I'm crying I cannot tell; I'm only aware of the sharp pain of the edge of the diadem digging into my palm.

* * *

[Thank you GoldenPhoenix07 for the name 'Bain' 


	3. Chapter 3

I pounded down the slope, kicking off my shoes as I flew, flinging my cloak aside, oblivious to the chill night air. I wanted to run forever, but one could imagine that I was thoroughly winded by the time I reached the village at the foot of our hill. I spun to see who it was the followed me, but perhaps they all thought I ran because I needed a bit of air. Did none of them guess I wouldn't be returning to that building in my time among the living?

It didn't matter anyway. Panting, I trudged through the winding streets of the sleepy little country town, the diadem perched atop my head. I suppose if wisdom was ever needed, it would be needed now. But still, I could no easier unravel my thoughts then I could a ball of yarn entangled by kittens.

I needed money. I was no fool, contrary to the belief of many, and I was well aware that nothing in life is free, least of all freedom. But I _did _wear jewels, and my dress should fetch a handsome sum, I should think. But not here. The shopkeepers here know me, and my mother. To where then?

East. I must escape the country. First south, to London to sell, then to Dover in order to get to France, perhaps Italy from there? Then to a less populated area, though where, I know not.

I turn down an alleyway, just in time to see a woman closing up her shop.

"_Wait!_" I cry, springing forward. She pauses.

"Evenin', Missus. 'Eard bout the big get together up at the Manor house- why're'nt you there?"

"It's not important. Have you a handful of floo powder I could borrow?"

She glances back inside, and then nods. "Thissa way."

"And if my mother asks, I wasn't ever here." I add as we head over to the grate. At this, she hesitates.

"Lady Rowena?"

"Yes, who else?" I snap, spotting the floo pot above the mantle. She began to back away.

"Missus, your mother doesn't know you're leaving? I thinks she ought know if you're planning to leave…"

"_No!_ Don't you dare-"

But she'd already run out the door. I say a very unladylike word, and grab a handful of the powder. I toss it into the flames, and yell 'London, England!'

* * *

It wasn't difficult to pawn off all my jewels, but I couldn't bring myself to step from the velvet gown I wore, and into the rags that would make me inconspicuous. A particular vanity of mine, but I decided there was enough money without parting with the dress. I did get a dull brown cloak, and I purchased a small bag of floo, but I feel that traveling the Muggle way will be safer. I'll go by flame to Dover, but from there it'll be by boat, then foot or horseback.

My journey begins with apparent ease; the public floo, though poorly maintained, is simple to locate. However, when I arrive in Dover, I find myself standing in a crude grate, atop a solitary hill. I stumble out, lifting my skirts high to keep them from the muck. I glance around nervously, before a voice wafted suddenly from the pre-dawn black.

"Aye, but it's early yet. Who is that wanders ere the White Cliffs?"

The powerful stench of alcohol reached me before I could see the unshaven face of the gratekeeper.

"'Sa pretty maid, tis. _Lumost. Lussmo. Loo­_- erm, hold on…"

"It's _lumos_," I volunteered uncertainly.

"Right, knew that. An ale too many, I suppose. _Lumos_." At once, the tip of his outstretched wand lit up.

"Ss'ure name, sweetheart?" He was younger than I originally guessed, likely twenty if a day.

"Hel- ga. Helga."

"S'at a fact? Whereabouts you from, Helga?"

"I… Ahe be from Sweden, ya."

Unfortunately, he wasn't as drunk as I attributed to him, for her gave a crack of laughter. "That's one of the worst accents I've heard in- ha! Tell me, Helga the Swede, whereabouts you headed, if you can't tell me where you've been?"

"I- I am headed to France. Where might be the nearest seaport?"

"If it's passage to France you're wanting, you've come to the right place. Com'is way, Helga." He turned and began to stagger down the hill. "'M Henry, by the way. Goat herder Henry. I'm only the gratekeeper at night. Makes a knut or two, and usually no one shows up anyhow. That up there's the new Muggle shrine. They call it Saint Marian Castro, methinks. You know the local Muggles call themselves Saxons? Odd title, but we try not to interfer- Keep up now, Helga. Not the heartiest of malkins, are ye maid?"

I flushed at his crude language and hurried my pace. "Tell me sir, where is it that you are leading us?"

"The inn, maid. No ship sails 'til dawn. Not far at all now." We trudge in silence for another five minutes or so, before I spot a glimmering tucked into the hills.

"Is that the town then?"

"Aye. The inn's the second lane down."

We passed into the only populated area for miles, and Henry finally paused in front of a dingy little structure.

"'ere it is, Helga."

"Surely not the inn?" I demand, aghast. "I'd not set foot in that place!"

"Unless you'd prefer the whorehouse? They're always in search of lovely slatterns…"

"You hideous knave!" I stumbled back, and saw as he lifted the light higher that he only jested.

"Although…" He frowned, eyes skating my figure, puzzled. "You're hardly dressed as a common slut."

I take a quick step back into the darkness, tugging my new, roughly-hewn cloak tightly around me.

"Enough questions, I think, sir. I'll be taking my leave here. Thank you for your services."

"I'll be back after dawn then, to take you to the docks?"

"Very well, thank you."

* * *

I shall never set foot on a Muggle vessel again. I will _die _before looking at one. The ship that the vile trickster Henry sent me upon was no doubt secretly intended to be the death of me. It not only smelled hideous, but I spent the duration of the voyage emptying the contents of my already-hungry stomach into the sea.

But anyway. I've survived and reached France, only slightly worse for the wear. I must admit, however, that I'm quite lost here.

"Excuse, sir, but if you could direct me-"

"_Bonjour, mademoiselle. S'il vous plaît, pardon moi-"_ He brushed past. This is fine for me, as he was clearly a madman. A woman I saw on the ship is walking down the gangplank behind me, and I turn to her with an engaging smile.

"Madam, could you possibly direct me-"

"_Parlez vous Français?"_

Did all the residents here speak solely gibberish? Did no one in the entire continent know English? I had to find wizarding Paris. It shouldn't be terribly difficult, since the Muggle Capetian dynasty made it the capital nearly a century ago. Calais can't possibly be terribly far from it. I'd guess… not more than a dozen kilometers or so.

* * *

Two hundred and seventy five! Two hundred and seventy five kilometers to reach Paris! Surely my mother will have people magically scouring the county for me- I _must _get further away, and quickly!

At the very least, wizarding Calais is easy enough to locate- I'd hate to wander about with Muggles. However, here there's a slim change that I might be recognized- If not as Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, then Godric Gryffindor's. I pull my hood up to shield my face, though _what_ anyone could discern of my face through this miserable rain is beyond me. I duck back into a covered doorway to avoid being any further soaked, and a rough voice behind me demanded,

"_Fille, dans ou hors?_"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't speak you language."

He frowned, and tried again. "_In of uit, meisje?_"

"Do you know English?"

"Little." He grunts. "What you want?"

"Oh! You _do!_ You've no idea what a relief this is! I've not found someone who speaks correctly since I've arrived here, and, _oh! _How wonderf-"

"What you want, girl?" He repeated in his heavily accented tone.

"To get to Italy! So I can sail to- oh, no, I can't sail again! Ever again! I just need to leave, sir, but I can't go by floo, for someone might be watching the network-"

"In or out of shop, _meisje_? You block biss-nuss."

"Oh, yes, of course- pardon, sir, but what do you sell here."

"Bruumes."

"Broomsticks?"

"_Ja._"

"That fly?"

"You witch or no?"

"Yes, of course I'm a witch! I've just never flown on a broomstick. They've only been around a couple dozen years, and there've been fatalities and- are they fast?"

"_Ja,_ the fastest. Twenty kilos in hour."

Twenty kilometers in an hour? I could be in Paris in just under fourteen hours at that rate! "I'd like to buy one, sir. How much?"

"Ninety galleon."

"Ninety galleons! That's mad! Seventy. I'll pay seventy."

"You pay eighty five."

"Seventy three."

"Eighty. No knut less."

"What about seventy, and…" Stuck by inspiration, I throw my cloak open. "This fine lace, on the hem of my dress. See? It's in excellent condition, and I'm certain you have a wife or daughter who could use it?"

He scowled and squinted down at the lace. "Fine." He tugged out his wand. "_Diffindo._" The lace separated, leaving a slightly ragged edge. "Come inside. I show you bruumes."


	4. Chapter 4

Three days later, I arrived exhausted, frigid, and starving in Paris. Every bone in my body aches, my hands are numb and stiff, and I have only five galleons left to sustain me. I have no wand, and not a second has passed where I've not cursed myself for leaving it behind. I can't travel a moment longer by broomstick or surely I'll collapse, plummet to my death…

The first thing I do is take my broom so a shop and sell it, for seventy five galleons, given it's pristine condition. Now perhaps I can purchase food and a room while I decide on a new course of action. It will be difficult, and I just don't know…

I found her almost immediately. Her face was round and cheerful, and she was humming beneath her breath. And she addressed the small child that walked beside her in English.

"Excuse me!" I gasp, darting forward. "Pardon me, madam!"

"Hello, dear." She gave me a gap-toothed smile. "How're you today?"

"Fine. Madam, I am in desperate need of your help."

"What seems to be the problem, dear? Louis, _no,_ stop that!" She plucked something from her son's chubby hands.

"I need to get away, madam, and I know not where to go…"

Immediately, her kind brown eyes became wary.

"If it's the law you're running from, there's noting I can do-" She began to back away.

"No!" I cry, louder than intended. She can't possibly go! This may be the only person in this forsaken city that understands me! "It's nothing like that. It's…" She's still suspicious, so quickly I concoct an excuse. My eye catches her wedding band, and I think of her easy smile and darling son.

"You see, I was… abused, for years, by my husband."

Instantly, her face melts to pity. "Or, dear, that's dreadful. But if he's looking for you, I can't risk my own family-"

"No, you don't understand. My husband abused me because I wasn't able to have a son, and he hated me for it. He had a mistress, though, and she gave birth to twin boys of his not more than a year ago. My husband, he died two weeks ago due to a bout of dragon pox. I've been tested and, thankfully, don't carry any trace of it. But you see, in his will, he left all the properties to his other woman and her sons, and now I've nothing but the clothing on my back and this small sum, saved from my dowry."

"Oh," Before I'd caught my breath, the woman folded me into a hug. "You _must _come with me, dear- and so young! To have such a wretched man to be wedded to… Yes, come along, our home is but a short walk from here. Louis, come along with mummy," She scooped her boy and kissed the top pf his golden curls. "Call me Beth, dear. What's your name?"

"Helga," I lie, falling in step behind her.

* * *

They live in a modest little dwelling, the three of them, but I don't complain. It's better than another second in the out of doors. Beth leads me to crude kitchen table, and conjures a goblet of warm cider. "I'll just go find Edward, and we'll discuss your situation then. Will you keep an eye on Louis?"

"Of course, and thank you."

She vanishes, and Louis smiles brightly. I glare and sip my cider. He gurgles and claps his hand; I roll my eyes. Children are terribly irritating. Fortunately, Beth returns before long with a man I assume must be Edward. He's massive, not as large as my father, but much wider around the middle. His pink scalp shows through his thin blonde hair, and when he greets me, I see he is missing several teeth. He wears a filthy apron, and his face is smudged black with soot.

"'Lo there, missy. The wife tells me you're in a spot of trouble?"

"Well, yes." I repeat my tale of tragedy for him as well, and then add, "I don't know where to go. It must be far from here, away from major cities, somewhere isolated, I just wish to be alone." _And hidden. Somewhere hidden._

"Well…" He scratches his chin thoughtfully with dirty nails. "Beth, you remember me telling you about that place I was traveling through several months back? Albania, it was. Mostly inaccessible there, even with magic, you'd have your privacy…"

"Brilliant! How might I reach this Albania?"

"Well… If you want a land route, I'd go from here, through Germany, south to Austria and Slovenia, the Croatian territory in Hungary, and Duklja and finally you'll reach Albania. I'd recommend the sea route though. You can go south from here, into Italy and cross the Adriatic Sea to get there. You'd sail from Otranto in Italy. I reckon it'll be 2,250 kilometers, and then the crossing."

"What? How will I ever travel that far?"

"By floo, of course, dear."

"Erm…" I backtrack. "Well, you see, my deceased husband's mistress despised me. She's a frightful woman- I fear she may have a watch on the network. I have no wand so therefore cannot apparate. I'd rather go a Muggle way."

Edward frowned. "That might be a problem. Unless…" He snapped his fingers. "I know! We have two horses that we rarely use, only if we have to travel in Muggle Paris, which is rare. You can take one."

"But… However will I find my way?"

"Kip! Oh, husband, can't you spare her Kip for the journey? I know he's a sullen lad, but he's very near useless in the shop, and he could show the way…"

"Excellent idea. Kip! Where is the boy?"

From the way they spoke of him, I expected a young boy to run out. Instead, a man of at least twenty-something entered the room.

"Indeed. You rang?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and lounged against the wall, looking thoroughly bored.

"Yes. Kip, we need you to help this girl."

"Do you?" He shot me a bored look. "She looks hearty enough. Tell her to care for her self."

"Don't be rude to her; she's been through so much, the poor dear." Beth patted my hand caringly, but I suddenly couldn't meet Kip's sharp gaze. While the master and mistress of the home were gullible enough, I had a distinct feeling this man wouldn't be so easy to fool.

But then, who was I, Helena Ravenclaw, so feel threatened by the help?

"Is that so?" His tone was sly, as smooth as silk. "Tell me-" But suddenly, he stopped. "Very well." He cleared his throat. "What is it you wish me to do with her?"

"Escort her, Kip, to Otranto. Edward can't afford to leave the shop, and I must watch Louis. She must travel by horseback."

"Otranto Italy? By horseback? Surely you jest."

"No, and I warn you don't bother this young woman! I will give you some money, and you are to come directly back. Don't try to escape, you know the consequences!"

"Of course. Tell me, when will we leave?" His grey eyes flashed with dislike.

"I'll go get the money now, and don't think I won't know if you've stolen some either!" Edward vanished from the room.

"Kip, go ready the horses." He left as well, and Beth sighed. "He's so difficult, more trouble then he's worth. I don't think that Edward would keep him if it weren't for the monthly-" She stopped, looking embarrassed. "Well, never mind that."

* * *

We were off by noon, when the rain stopped. After several humiliating attempts, I managed to mount the beast, and Kip rode a pace or two ahead at all times. Fine with me- I rather dislike him anyway. Though I must admit, he isn't horrible looking. I watch his strong, straight back and gently blowing, white-blonde hair for some time, sneaking glimpses at his sharp profile when he turns his head from time to time. There's something about him that doesn't denote servitude, and there's not trace of respect in his drawling voice when he demands, around four,

"Why is it that you find the need to stare at me incessantly?"

I gasp, and tumble promptly from my horse.

"Bloody hell girl, after we spent an hour getting you up!" He sprang gracefully from his own mount, and approached where I was sprawled in the dirt. "You know, Helga-" He winced slightly. "_Do_ tell me your real name, because if I must call you Helga one more, I swear I'll be ill. And if you don't want me to know, at the very least make up something better than Helga!"

I feel my eyes widen. "How did you know that my name wasn't-"

"Edward and Elizabeth are the most doltish people I know- surely you don't expect everyone to be? I don't particularly care to know your real story either, but I'll not call you Helga for a moment longer."

"Helena." I confess softly. Kip gives a grunt of satisfaction.

"That's much better. Though I expect you had that halfway out your mouth before you thought better and decided on Helga?"

I flush at his accuracy, and then scowl. "I think 'Helga' is a sight better than 'Kip'!"

He flashes me a quick grin. "True enough, but I didn't choose Kip. They chose it for me when I wouldn't pick a new name."

"Why would you need a new name?"

"Don't concern yourself about that. I don't wish to hide my true name, I'm simply forbidden to speak it."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"So many questions. Let me help you back into the saddle."

He pulled me up, but I wouldn't be deterred. "Let me guess it then. What does it start with?"

"'T', I think, though I've never learned to spell."

We begin to trot along again, this time side by side. "Er… Thomas?"

"No."

"Timothy?"

"No."

"Talan?"

"No."

This continued for hours. I was certain that I'd exhausted every name beginning with 'T', and he'd mistaken it for another letter, when I guessed: "Tiberius."

He reined his horse, and froze.

"Say it again." He demanded.

"What, Tiberius?"

"Yes…" He breathed, closing his eyes. "It's been years since anyone's called me that. Years… Helena, you must never, ever, call me Kip again."

"Tiberius is your name? That's hardly a common name!"

"There are no common names within my family. Or at least, what was my family." He was frowning. "I had a younger brother; his name was Claudius."

"Did your family die?" I ask with gentle sympathy. He gave a harsh laugh.

"Oh no, they're all quite well. All the better they're rid of me." He spurred his horse forward.

"Tiberius, wait!" I kick my horse to get it to move forward- it rears, and I fall to the hard packed earth. "Oh!"

He wheels around, and snarls in frustration.

"You're absolutely useless! We're never going to get there at this rate. Here." He trotted over, and held out his hand. "You'll ride with me."

"I…" I stand up, uncertain. "What about the other one?"

"Easy enough. She'll run along beside. Get up!" I did and accepted his hand. He hauled me up into the saddle before him, and put his arms around my shoulders to grip the rein. Despite myself, I blush at our proximity. I've danced with men, of course, but there's something that seems far more intimate about riding like this with him, my back pressed to his chest, our bodies moving together with the rhythm of the galloping horse, the heady scent of soap, sweat, and sheer masculinity, the press of his powerful thighs against my softer ones…

I close my eyes, comfortable despite the jostle of the beast. I wonder, perhaps, if he feels as giddy by our closeness as I? I press back against him, just a bit, to emphasis how near we are.

"Bloody hell, Helena!" He groans. Much to my surprise, he reins the horse and stumbles down inelegantly. I slide down as well. "It's dark. We'll sleep in this grove tonight. I hear a stream down there- I'll go water the horses." Careful to keep his back to me, he gathered the creature's reins and led them down the slope.

I wish to follow him, but make do with a self-satisfied smirk and shrug off my cloak and, after a moment or two of consideration, my dress as well, so I stand in just my shift. Although, that's really quite dirty as well. Grinning mischievously, I traipse down in the direction in which Tiberius disappeared. I spot him before long, several paces away from the greedily drinking horses, squatted and splashing water on his face and neck. I select a spot on the opposite side, shimmy out of my shift, and dive into the water. However, I didn't anticipate how cold it would be, and I reemerge gasping and spluttering. Tiberius was on his feet now, watching me with a bemused expression.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"W-w-washing." With a flick of my wrist, my shift flies over, and I dunk it several times and then wring it out. "W-would you c-care to join m-m-m-me? The w-water's lovely." I can scarcely speak, my teeth are chattering so badly. Tiberius is still watching my in confusion, and I'm beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable.

"No thank you. I'll just… let you finish." He leads the horse back up the hill, and I curse quietly. I rinse the shift and myself several more times before climbing onto he shore- and realizing I've no option but to put the soaking shift back on.

Tiberius looks up as I return to the campsite, and has the gall to snicker at my countenance.

"Here, Helena…" He reaches into the sack he's brought along, and withdraws a clean white shirt, a homespun undershirt to be exact, but far warmer looking than what I currently have on. I thank him and change behind clump of bushes. When I return, he's rubbing two sticks together rapidly over a pile of branches in the shape of a cone.

"Tiberius, what exactly are you attempting to do with that?"

"Light a fire, what else?"

I laugh at his ridiculousness. "Use your wand, silly, the spell's 'incendio'."

He presses his lips together in a thin line and continues his vigorous rubbing.

"You have got a wand, haven't you?"

The stick snaps under the pressure of his hands, and he flings it vehemently into the shrubbery. "Wouldn't do much good for me to have a wand, would it?"

"Whyever not?"

"You truly do catch on quickly, don't you?" He snarled, voice saturated with sarcasm.

"You're not a Muggle, are you?" I demand, aghast.

"Of course not, you little chit. Do you know nothing? I live in bloody wizard's Paris."

"A squib? You're a squib!" I exclaim, shocked. His malevolent glare tells me all I need to know. "I've never met one before! I didn't realize-"

"What? Didn't realize what? That we weren't hideous, deformed monsters? That we didn't walk about holding signs that read 'squib- beware'? That we weren't brainless dolts?"

"It that the reason why you're a servant?"

"Aye, and the reason I was disowned at the age of eight from one of the greatest families in Great Britain? The reason I was sent from the country, the reason I was cursed so that I can't even speak my own name? The reason my family pays Edward and Elizabeth each month, to keep me out of sight and mind? The reason why my birthright as heir was denied, and given to my younger brother? Aye, Helena, it is. I suppose it's also the reason why you look disgusted, as though I were a loathsome insect."

Immediately, I clear my expression. Keeping my tone cool and detached, I reply, "Very well. I shall go practice with my horse so that we may ride separately and quickly to Otranto. I wish be there as soon as possible."

He shrugged, face impassive. However, there was a certain malice in his voice when he said, "You can do anything you like, Helena. After all, you _are_ a witch."


	5. Chapter 5

I rise the next morning to find myself quite alone, except for the horses snorting nearby. It's just past dawn- I can see the pink light streaking through the trees. I lick my dry lips, and stand to head down to the stream. First, however, I shed Tiberius's garment, hating that the smell- _stench-_ of a squib lingers on my skin. I pull my shift over my head, and then, with more difficultly, the dress. My uninterested wondering of where my escort had wandered to was ended as I spotted him, waist deep in the creek, lifting handfuls of water to bathe. My lip curls in disgust, and I walk upstream a ways for my drink to avoid his filth. When I return he is on the bank drying himself, and I turn away to avoid offending my eyes. I shall wait up at the camp.

"Good morrow, Helena." He says quietly, appearing several minutes later, fully dressed. I give him a look of utmost disinterest.

"I feel it improper that we refer to one another so informally; after all, you _are_ my escort and the servant of a peasant family. You shall address me as Lady Helena, and I shall call you Kip."

The muscles of his jaw tighten, and his eyes darken with barely leashed rage.

"I would prefer it, _Lady Helena_, if you not refer to me as 'Kip'."

"Oh? What would you prefer?" I taunt, intentionally malicious.

"My _name_." He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Your name?" I echo. "Your masters told me your name was Kip."

"And then tell me, why should you be addressed as 'lady'? As far as I know, you're the widowed, knutless woman whose husband wanted nothing to do with her while he lived. You've scarcely a possession to your name, let alone an estate. You're about as much a proper lady as I am a knight of the Round Table."

"I am indeed! I needn't explain myself to you. Help me into my saddle." I place my hands upon the newly journey-ready horse, and wait. Tiberius approached, then dropped to one knee and laced his fingers together as a foothold. He throws me up, but catches my ankle and holds my leg immobile. "Released me, you knave!" I struggle, but if I fight too much I'll certainly fall, and with that hold on my foot, I'd surely snap my neck.

"Do you know what I think, Helena?" He murmured icily, sliding his hand higher along the bare skin of my calf. I should be repulsed by his touch, but instead I find chills shooting through me. "I think you were never abused. I've seen my share of beaten women, and not one of them had you spirit. I also think that," The movement of his hand continued, tracing the shape of my knee, before moving on to the inside of my thigh. I _should_ be screaming and fighting this- I _should _prefer breaking my neck to this. But I can't move. "You've never been touched by a man. Not in anger has any man ever struck you, nor has any man ever taken you in his lust-"

"Stop!" I mean to scream the word, but it comes out as more of a moan. However, he obliges, removing his hand from my skirts and turning to mount his own horse.

"You're afraid and alone. It's no good- you can't pretend to be a spited housewife and put on airs. You must choose one: a life on the run in anonymity, or one in the luxury you're accustomed to. You can't have both. So pick, Helena- do you want to turn around now, and go back to whatever you came from, or give it up, and go to Albania?"

I was tempted- _very _tempted- to go. Turn around and flee back to life at Glencoe, alone with my mother. But… I wouldn't be with my mother. I would be with the Baron. His wife… While the feel of Tiberius's touch hadn't disgusted me as ought, the mere idea of Bain's hands upon me made my skin crawl.

"Go. I need to go."

"Then come."

* * *

Three days. Three days passed without a word between us, before, around noon on the fourth day, I finally said,

"Ravenclaw. Helena Ravenclaw."

Tiberius looked up. If his was surprised by my sudden decision to speak to him, he didn't show it. "I beg your pardon?"

"That's my name. Helena Ravenclaw."

"As in… Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"My mother."

He gave a bitter laugh. "Rowena Ravenclaw doesn't have a daughter. She never married. She was the one Founder that didn't. She moved to-"

"Glencoe, after becoming pregnant shortly before my father's wedding. She's lived in isolation ever since with her only child- Helga would come to visit, when she had time…"

"Helga Hufflepuff?"

"The very same."

"So I suppose you've met all the Four then?"

"Well, no. Helga is like an aunt to me, Rowena, obviously… I've never met Salazar Slytherin before."

"And what of Gryffindor?"

"Once. Sort of. I saw him, and, well…"

"Yes, well?"

"He's my father."

"Oho. So Lady Ravenclaw in all her propriety is, in fact, the bastard of two legends? Fascinating…"

"And you? Disowned? From what family so great?"

"I've told you, I cannot speak it."

"If I could guess Tiberius, I can certainly guess a well-known family in my homeland."

"Alright then- my brother Claudius graduated from Slytherin's house two years ago. Our family has one of the purest bloodlines in the magical world. Not Black, though I was supposed to marry a Black girl before they realized I was a squib."

"Not… Not Malfoy?"

"On your very first guess too; you're getting better."

"Tiberius Malfoy. Well, I reckon that explains the 'Tiberius' bit."

"Indeed." He replied dryly. "So why is it you're running? Because you can't tolerate living as a constant reminder to your mother, the Wise, that she made a mistake?"

"No. I hated that, but I would have dealt with it, somehow. No, she was going to have me marry the Baron of Glencoe, a wretched man whom I despise. I'd rather die than be with him- and maybe I will. Tell me, how long will this journey take?"

"Lets see… If we make it twenty five miles in a day, it should take about three months."

"Three months? That's mad!"

"Three months, at best. Permitting the weather stays good, and the horses aren't injured."

"I see."  
"Come, let's stop to eat."

I agree, guiding my mare over to the shade.

"Here, let me help you down."

Irrationally, I flush at his hands on my waist. There was nothing intimate about the gesture, and yet…

"Cheese and bread again, I fear. But don't worry; we're approaching Sens by tomorrow. There's enough money here to stay in an inn."

"Where will we go after that?" I ask, biting into the stale loaf he handed me.

"Auxerre. Then Dijon, we'll likely pass through Dole on the way to Geneva. We'll see from there. Ugh, this bread tastes like sawdust." He reached back into the sack and dug around for a moment, before withdrawing a small jar.

"Strawberry preserve. My favorite." He unscrewed the lid and dipped his finger inside, grinning as he spread it across his bread and then carefully licked the digit clean. "Would you like some?"

"I've never tried it before," I confess.

"Probably not- It's an entirely Muggle food. If you're willing to compromise your delicate sensibilities?" He didn't wait for my reply, snatching the bread from my fingers and smearing it with the stuff. "There you are."

I'm rather suspicious of it- after all, it's red, lumpy and sticky. However, Tiberius seems to be enjoying it well enough, so I take a tiny nibble.

"Oh! It's wonderful!"

Tiberius laughs, watching me savor mine once his is finished. "You missed a bit," He chuckled softly, reaching out to wipe it from the corner of my mouth. But I'm not so willing to share this rare treat. I grab his wrist, and promptly lick the preserve away, giggling. When I life my eyes to his, I see he's staring at me with an intensity that causes me to shrink back.

"I was right, wasn't I?" He asked quietly

"Indeed; this is absolutely delicious-"

"Not about the jam," He waved my ignorance aside. "That you've never been touched by a man."

"I- I have." In a way. I glance down at my hands, folded in my lap. Like I mentioned, I _have_ danced before, and then there was the Baron's frequent invasion of my personal space, but other than that, I've had no interest in any of the men- more boys, really- that have come to court. When I look up, Tiberius has moved incredibly close.

"Have you ever been kissed, Helena?" His lips are nearly against mine, and if he were just a bit closer, then perhaps… I allow my eyes to slide shut, savoring the warm sweetness of his breath, flavored from the berry. He shifts again and I feel my self going weak with anticipation… But he seems to have changed his mind, as I feel his nose brush against my cheek and neck, tucking his face into the curve of my shoulder. One hand trails up the side of my bodice as he lifts his head to breathe into my ear.

"No?" He voice is husky and low. I shake my head, biting my lip to stop it from trembling. "Well, then…" He leaps up suddenly and is walking back towards the horses with long strides. "Glad we have that settled!" He calls back in an entirely unaffected voice. "We'd best be off now if you ever want to get to Otranto!"

My eyes fly open and I sit there, stunned. Surely he's not going to leave, just like that? But I look over and see him mounting his mare and realize, yes, that is _precisely_ his  
intention. To make me look the fool to just leave me-! I remain silent as I remount as well, plotting my revenge.


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me, Tiberius, why aren't you married? You're, what, twenty two, twenty three years old?"

"Twenty four. And even if I wished to marry, I'd be unable to, unless Elizabeth and Edward choose a woman for me. I wouldn't have a choice in that case- I'm magically bound to them. For example, my escorting you to Otranto- if I attempted to run off, I'd die. I can take you there and then return to Paris- no more, no less."

"I see." I reply thoughtfully. He shoots me a wry look.

"Do you? Did you and the Lady Ravenclaw keep human servants?"

"We had a maid, but mostly elves."

"Have you ever been forced to so something you hate, or even something as trivial as straightening your collar, under threat of death?"

I gape at him. "No. No, I can't say I have."

"Then you don't see. How could you possibly understand?"  
He's a man of many moods, and I do so hate it when he gets like this. Perhaps it's because we've been on the road two weeks now- and it is getting quite exhausting. And to think, it's not even a third of the way over. The mountains have been difficult as well, for us as well as the horses.

"We'll be in Aosta by nightfall, if we don't stop to rest. Do you think you can make it that far?"

For an inn and hot meal? "Most certainly."

"You know, there's a Roman amphitheatre there, built by Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus."

"You mean Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus."

"Precisely so. My parents thought it clever to name my brother and I for the same man- fitting he's most commonly known as the emperor Claudius. Hardly anyone remembers the first part."

* * *

As it turned out, the town's only inn and several other buildings had been recently destroyed in a fire, and the process of reconstruction was slow.

Irritated and exhausted, Tiberius marched up to a neighboring cottage and pounded on the door. After a moment, a Muggle holding a candlestick appeared at the doorway.

"_Podemos soggiorno aqui?" _Tiberius asked in broken Italian. "_Una notte. Per favore?"_

She considered for a moment, and I whispered to him, "What did you say?"

"I asked if we could stay here one night."

_"__Chi sono voi? Chi è lei?"_ Who are you? Who is she?

"_Soy _Kip. _Ciò è la mia sposa, _Helga."

"_Solanto una notte?_"

_"Sì." _

At last, the woman nodded her head. _"Il granaio."_

"What did she say?"

"I'm not entirely sure,"

The woman pointed to a structure several paces away. "_Il granaio._"

"She expects us to sleep in _that_?"

"It's better than nothing, Helena. _Grazie,_" He turns from the door, and leads the horses over to the decrepit building- I suppose it was once a barn. There are two stalls, where Tiberius put the mares, and a rectangular space approximately two square metres besides that. I eye the dirty, stone floor doubtfully, watching as he spreads his cloak out and lies down.

"It's out of the wind." He continues without opening his eyes.

"It _is_ cold out there," I add, settling down beside him, close enough to ascertain he'll be uncomfortable. He grunts in agreement, and edges away, towards the rotting wall. I smile, and spread my own cloak out to cover us.

"Helena, what are you doing?"

"I'm cold." I repeat, tucking myself closer.

"That's a pity- aren't you glad we're not outside?"

"I'd rather be in a bed… A warm, soft bed, in front of a roaring fire, a mug of hot cider…" As I speak, I sidle up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his back.

"Stop it, Helena." I choose to ignore the warning tone of his voice.

"Mmm…" I push my hands up under his shirt, and suddenly find myself pinned on my back, wrist above my head in a vice grip.

"Enough," He snarls, nose less than a fingers width from mine. Despite his evident fury, I give a sultry little smile and arch my back to press against him.

"Enough of what, _Tiberius_?" I intentionally place emphasis on his name- I can tell it affects him each time he hears it after all these years being called Kip.

"I know not your intentions, maid, but I want no more to do with it."

I smirk, rolling my hips agant his. "Do with what?"

"With _you_, you heartless coquette." He shoves me away, and turns over. "Go to sleep."

"I don't _want _to _sleep_," I trail off suggestively. He remains silent, but I'm undeterred. Sooner or later he'll give in, sooner or later, I'll be able humiliate him as well…

"I'm rather disappointed in you." I sigh, turning away at last, though continue to trace the muscles of his back and shoulders. "You ridicule me for not being intimate with any man- have you ever had a woman? I don't believe you have; you're not man enough to take one."

He chuckles softly- he won't rise to the bait. "I've had my share of visits to the local whorehouse and neighborhood doxies. And I would like to have you too, Helena- very much. But who can blame me, what man wouldn't? A fresh, young virgin, so ready, too- oh yes, I've thought of it. But where would the enjoyment be in the end? I know you don't want me; you want to see how much you can make me suffer. I've never seen a proper lady so frivolous with her virtue, and it's a most curious combination of amusing and arousing. So yes, there you have it. Unless you chose to come to me, wanting no more than me, I'll not touch you, Helena. We've a long day tomorrow; you should rest."

* * *

"So tell me," I ask the next day as we trot along. "When did you learn to speak Italian?"

"I don't remember much of it, to be honest- my father hired a tutor when I still lived there. But I think parts of whatI said to that woman may have been Spanish- I always did have difficulty differentiating. But I'm actually surprised you don't know any- didn't your mother teach you?"

"Yes, but I think she was disappointed that I didn't have her natural aptitude for books and learning, and she became easily frustrated. All the students she taught at Hogwarts were exceptional for their intelligence because they were in her House- I know she was upset her own daughter wasn't."

"That must have been irritating." He commented mildly.

"Oh, it was! Because I couldn't read texts on aritmantic analysis by the time I was five, she was convinced I was hopelessly stupid! She taught me only the most basic of principles, and specific answers to my queries. It was… infuriating. '_Helena'_," I mimicked. "'_You just wouldn't understand._'"

"I'm sorry. That does sound trying."

"And she'd go abut with her diadem all the time-"

"Not…not The Diadem?"

"Well, she only had one." I reply, head lofted. And I can feel the diadem as we speak, tucked into a hidden pocket with my dress. Useless thing anyway, for all the good choices it's led me to.

"It's legendary, you know?"

"Yes, well, so is my mother, and I got tired of her soon enough."

"I suppose that's fair. But the Diadem- You've seen it then?"

"Of course I have- she loved waltzing about the manor wearing it, studying and philosophizing." He can clearly hear the distain in my tone, I'm certain.

"Did you ever get to wear it?"

"Only once; she was very protective of it."

"And what was that like?"

He sounds incredibly eager, and I feel a stab of pity. His obvious thirst for knowledge should have been satisfied as a small child, when he had the best tutors and massive libraries at his command.

"Not as brilliant as one might expect. I didn't- I didn't _feel_ any wiser."

"Well," He gives me a crooked grin. "Perhaps you didn't wear it right."

"Maybe not."

* * *

That night, I dreamt.

_I was at home again, in my room. A hear a faint crying from my mother chamber- I go to investigate, and find her lying in bed, terribly thin and pale. Her cheeks are sunken, and wet with tears. Helena, she whispers, Helena please… I rush forward to hold her, but each step seems to pulls me further away… Suddenly, I am alone. It's dark, and I can only discern vague shapes around me. And then, for too near, the Baron materializes, laughing cruelly. A stabbing pain, and then-_

"Helena! Helena, wake up!" My eyes fly open, and I find myself breathing hard.

"What-?"

"You were dreaming, Helena, yelling and crying." Tiberius murmurs.

The vivid images come rushing back, and tear fill my eyes once more. "My mother, Tiberius, she was dying. And Bain, the Baron, he was there…" I'm shaking quite badly, and flick my eyes open to see Tiberius, crouched beside me. I've obviously just woken him- his hair is hopelessly mussed, he's rubbing his eyes, but the expression on his face is of utmost concern. "Tiberius…" I whisper hesitantly, "Hold me?"

He pauses for only a split second before lifting me and cradling me to his chest. There was something distinctly secure about his arms, muscled from physical labor, and yet, he held be as gently as a child.

"It wasn't… She's not really ill, is she?"

"I was merely a dream, Helena." He murmurs against my hair. "You needn't fret. They rarely mean any thing- I myself had a dream last night in which I discussed Muggle politics with a hippogriff."

Despite myself I giggle, and he pressed his lips firmly to my forehead.

"Better now?"

"Don't leave me," I plead, for he shows every indication of doing so. With a great sigh, he places me back on my cloak, and reclines beside me.

"But only until you fall asleep." He taps the tip of my nose empathetically. "Do you need me to read you a story?"

"Oh, hush," I pull my cloak up to cover my shoulders, and Tiberius wraps an arm around my waist with a soft chuckle.

We're silent for a while, before I lift my head to rest my chin upon his chest.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For… being here." I can't quite explain- no one, not even my own mother, was ever there to comfort me as a child. She called my nightmares silly, she told me to stop crying when I scraped my knee. Perhaps she loved me, but she certainly had an odd way of showing it.

Tiberius looks back down at me with a most curious expression. I wriggle up, slightly awkward in my shifting, and carefully press my lips to his.

He starts, surprised, I suppose, and remains stiffly immobile. I draw back, uncertain, and try again. I can _feel_ his will power melting, and he shifts to postion his weight over me, one hand reaching towards my hair, the other moving to match the curve of my waist.

"_You,_ Tiberius," I whisper. "I want _you._"

* * *

[Author's Note: I've had no reviews for that past three chapters- please tell me what you think? I try not to beg, but if it's awful, I'd like to know that too! 


	7. Chapter 7

I wake the next morning, but don't open my eyes. A grin splits my face, my hand flies to my mouth to stifle giggle of delight, and I stretch luxuriantly.

"Tiberius…" I reach out to the space next to me, but my hand meets empty space. I sit up abruptly. "Tiberius?" But he's not beside me. I look around the campsite, and feel my mouth go dry with terror. His cloak was covering me- us- but now it's my own that falls across my knees. His clothing- there was a pile there, but that's gone too. And his mare- mine's still tethered by the trees, but his is gone. "Tiberius?" I pause, waiting. There's no response. "Tiberius!"

_He's gone._ Just like that. He can't have gone for water- there's a pool not five metres from here. He said the nearest town was a day's journey, so he hasn't gone off for food either. I reach for my shift and realize my hands are shaking so badly, I can hardly lift it.

So this was it then. He's likely headed back to Paris now. Maybe he'll tell his masters that the horse and I tumbled into a ravine, maybe that we were abducted. Never the truth: He found my secrets, had me, and then fled. Despite myself, I feel tears welling in my eyes, for the first time since running from my home.

I trusted him. I'd been so certain…

But if he'd not left me now, we'd have been separated in Otranto anyway. Even though I don't know my own way, it would have been far more difficult to leave then, if things had continued on. I was certain last night that I was in love- I may have even said something to that effect- and that was after only a single evening! Certainly if we spent two months as such, parting would be made impossible.

So it would appear, despite my predicament of being abandoned and alone and lost, things may be for the best.

I rise to go was my face in the pool of water, but as I squat beside it, I find it to be dreadfully brackish. _Brilliant. Spectacular, really-_ What was that?

I look up- that's certainly _not _a bird I hear whistling. I twist to look over my shoulder, and see Tiberius riding into sight, wearing nothing but trousers and a comically pleased expression on his face. The rest of his sopping-wet clothing is flung over his shoulder.

"Good morrow, sweetheart!" He called swinging, off the horse and waltzing over to where I kneel. However, as he bends to kiss me, I turn away and he draws back, confused. I've managed to hide any trace of delight- my revelation stands true, even if he _is _here. He wouldn't leave- of course not, I was clearly panicking unnecessarily, but now that he's back, what happened last night cannot be repeated.

"Helena?" I look up at him and see honest confusion in his eyes- he clearly cannot understand why it is that I refuse his touch.

"Yes?" I rise in defiance, chin lofted haughtily.

"What ails you this morning?" He asks, concerned, reaching out for me. I back away.

"Nothing at all," I reply with an airy shrug. "I see you've bathed- perhaps we ought to set out for today?"

I don't wait for a response, instead sauntering past to my mare and climbing up onto her, wincing slightly at the pain between my thighs.

"Helena, wait…" He approaches the horse, and stares up at me, brow furrowed. "What exactly is the problem? You're not- are you upset about what happened last night, are you?"

I force a careless laugh. "Oh Tiberius," I shake my head with an expression one might use to indulge a small child. "Upset? Me? That is amusing. Why would_ I_ be upset?"

"I…" He seems nonplussed. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Not at all, shall we go now?"

"Not until you tell me why you're so upset."

"I'm not, really, just in a bit of a hurry- you said we could be in a town tonight?"

"Why won't you talk with me?"

"I'm not at all opposed to talking, just perhaps while we're on the road?"

"Why wouldn't you kiss me?"

"I really had no desire to kiss you, Tiberius." I sigh impatiently, unable to bring myself to look into his shocked eyes.

"Why not?"

I think a moment before responding, remembering our night in the barn. "It was really too easy."

"What was?"

"It's not just that you're a man, and men are known for their indiscriminate lust as it is. It was hardly a challenge, and besides, I _am _a witch, and you just a helpless squib." I am unable to hold his gaze. The pained, stunned eyes bring a curious choking to my throat, and my chest feels tight. "Go get on your horse, Tiberius."

"You- you said- you told me you wanted _me_, Helena." He seems hardly capable of forming the words. "You… You said you loved me." He whispered.

"Well, I lied, didn't I?" I snap back, hating that tears are fighting to fall once more.

He says nothing to this- instead, he returns to his mount. "She was right then." He murmured softly as he pulled up beside me.

"What are you talking about?" I demand.

"My mother. For the first eight years of my life, she was the only person on earth that ever told me she loved me. So when it was discovered I was a squib, she was the first person I went to. I wanted to ascertain that, despite the fact I had no magical ability, she still cared for me. She sat me down and explained, quite calmly, that no, she didn't love me, that I was the same as a Muggle, and no one could love a Muggle, and therefore no one would ever love me." He looks down at the reins in his hand, then back up at me, shaking sun-bleached hair from his face. "Sixteen years, Helena, and no one even bothers to pretend to care what became of me, other than to make sure all my chores had been finished. It never even occurred to anyone to lie about it until last night."

He pauses again, but the silence doesn't invite comment.

"Part of me would like murder you for lying to me, but I suppose it's enough that I'll never see you again at the end you this journey."

Once more, he hesitates.

"But then, I want to thank you as well, for permitting me the illusion that perhaps I wasn't so worthless." He shrugged. "For a few hours, at least."

He's waiting now for me to say something- _anything._ I long to tell him the truth: That I _wasn't _lying, that he's likely the most remarkable human I've ever met, that his honesty astounds me, and I admire his bravery and ability to smile despite what he's been through. From being the pampered heir to the Malfoy fortune and title to a disliked servant- it's unimaginable. But instead, I force out the cruelest words I can think of.

"It was wrong of me though, to give you the idea you were anything but."

He nods stiffly, spurs his horse, and gallops due south.

* * *

[Author's Note: Thanks to Enchantinglyeuphoric and anza for the reviews! Only a chapter or two more, I think. 


	8. Chapter 8

In my life I have never endure more misery than I have in the past two months. In the first week or so, Tiberius made several attempts to discuss things again, but I refused each time. It became more and more difficult, but eventually he admitted defeat. I never before realized it was possible to spend every waking moment with a person and not speak more than two words a day, I never realized the pain it might cause. And now, I stand in Otranto at last, preparing to board a ship that will take me to a land I know nothing of, where I will be entirely alone.

"Last call, Helena, you need to go."

I can't move. I can't breathe.

"Helena, _now._"

"I can't." I gasp. He places a hand on the small of my back. The tiny contact causes me to start, breaking my paralysis.

"Have a safe journey." He murmurs. I nod.

"You as well, Tiberius." I reply automatically. His eyes slide shut, and I cock a quizzical eyebrow in his direction.

"Goodbye, Helena." I realize why he reacted as he did- that was likely the last time he'd ever hear his true name spoken out loud.

I lift my satchel, and head up the gangplank.

* * *

My feet are numb, I can hardly keep myself upright, every bone in my body aches, and my face is chapped from the wind, drizzling rain, and my tears. I can't possibly walk a step forward. I reach blindly for a tree, using it to ease myself to the ground. As I do, I feel a jabbing against my skin, and when I reach within the folds of my dress to pull out the diadem- flawless and sparkling, promising all the wisdom in the world, but giving nothing. _Nothing._ In a wave of fury, I turn and shove it into a hollow in the tree I lean against and, feeling free of the heavy burden, rise once more and continue walking.

I can't remember collapsing, but when I awake, there is a gentle hand upon my shoulder.

"Tiberius?" I asked with sleepy unreason, turning over and opening my eyes hopefully. However, when I can focus on the figure before me I scream- surely this is just another nightmare, and I when truly wake, my beloved will be there to hold me. I rapidly shut and open my lids once more, crouching over me with that horrible grin.

"Good morrow, Helena. Have you slept well?"

I leap up and scramble back, still unable to believe that he's found me, after all I went through to remain hidden.

"What are you doing here, Bain?"

"Why, come to fetch you, my betrothed." He leers down at me, stepping forward.

"I'll never come with you, Baron." I spat.

"Now, now," He chuckles coldly. "I thought you might say that. But you _will_ come- willingly or no. The Lady demands it."

"My mother sent you?"

"It was her dying wish that you see you once more… I guess she's dead by now, but I won't leave my wife here in the wilderness."

I can't breathe. "My mother… dead?"

"She was very nearly gone when I left…" He shakes his head in mock pity.

"How? She was in perfect health when I left!"

"They're saying a broken heart- there was a fissure, I suppose, when your father abandoned her, and then when you left…" He shrugged pitilessly.

"You lie."

"Ah," He held a hand to his chest. "You wound me. Now, you must come with me."

"Never."

His eyes narrow. "I lose my patience, Helena. You will come now, or thoroughly regret it."

"Go on, make me regret it. I despise you, and fled because I wished never to see you again, and will _never_ go with you."

"I warn you…"

"To you intend to bind me with those chains you wear across you shoulders, Bain? You can bind me physically- in my mind, I will never have anything to do with you."

His expression hardens to hate. In all the cruel words I used on Tiberius, never was his gaze accusatory, never did it show dislike. Shocked, wounded, and pleading, but never, _ever_ hateful.

"You're a foolish woman."

"And you're a disgusting… not man, no, a boy. Immature and childish."

Just as in my dream I feel a startling pain in my chest, agonizing for a flash, but immediately the discomfort subsided. I collapse onto my back, and after a moment, pull myself to my feet once more.

"Striking a woman? And when I thought you could sink no lower…" His staring at me, no longer angry, but utterly horrified.

"Helena…"

"What?" I snap back irritably. He raises a shaking finger to point behind me, and I gasp. Where I fell lays my body still, wide-eyed, his dagger still protruding from my chest. I lift my hands before me to find them silvery and translucent. I part my gown of air, and see a dark stab wound.

I scream. The sound is otherworldly, and I realize I have no need to draw a breath. I could scream forever- perhaps I shall. Flinching at the noise, Bain pitches forward, grasps the knife and pull is from me. And then, my shriek never ceasing, he turns the blade to himself, stabs first his own stomach, slashes both his wrists and thrusts the dagger into his chest before collapsing, face down, by my body. And then, only seconds later, he rises in much the same form as myself.

"Helena…" He gasps, but I turn, and I flee. My feet down touch the ground but I move with great speed, shooting through the forest. Away…

My adventures after death are a different tale entirely, one that would require an epic of it's own. It wasn't until centuries later that I ever entered Hogwarts and met Bain, by then known as the Bloody Baron, once more. And as for Tiberius… Well, as I said, a tale in its own.

As for the diadem, it was many years later that a term was even invented that described what I believed its powers to be- the placebo effect. However, I never had a chance to discuss with my mother what that crown could do, for she was dead by the time I returned to Glencoe.

I suppose that I will never truly understand.

Finis


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